Hannah Baker's Diary
by thenightwemet
Summary: The trial is in full swing, and someone slipped a page of Hannah Baker's diary into Clay's backpack. He thought the tapes were the only record of her last thoughts on earth, but there's more to her story. Things she wouldn't say on tape.
1. Chapter 1

**August 25, 2015**

 **Dear Diary,**

 **Is it weird if I call you Diary? Do you want me to call you something else? How about…Diana. Like you're my friend, named Diana. No that's so weird. I'm pretending books are humans now, great.**

 **It's me Hannah, Hannah Baker.**

 **I need a place where I can just—well—just be. Today that place is Monet's, tomorrow maybe the park, maybe even getting to the Crestmont early…anywhere but home. Because even though I want to be alone, the last thing I want is to actually be alone.**

 **I'm hoping I can take you with me, Diana. Let's go with that—"Diana." I have to say, the fact that you're covered in pink peace signs is kind of uncool, but it was either you, or a purple diary with a lock that said "Girls Rule." Side note: I should really tell Mom and Dad to carry more than 2 types of diaries at the store. But for now, you'll do. I hope you don't think I'm settling—I promise to never make you feel inadequate again, Diana. Because one thing's for sure, girls don't rule.**

 **I'd like to make you a promise right now, mostly because I want to hold myself to it. I will never, ever show you to anyone. I will never tell anyone about you. I will never give away our secrets. Our secrets will live safely here.**

 **There are things I'll tell you that I could never say out loud. But it's okay, because you're a book with no face, no heart, no brain…no offense. I know you won't judge me.**

 **New school, new Hannah. I have a good feeling about Liberty High. It's only been a few days, but everyone seems…nice. Although, if I've learned one thing about high school, sometimes the nicest people are the ones who break you. They're so "nice" that they couldn't possibly do anything wrong.**

 **But I won't start the year with that mindset. This is my fresh start. It's the year of Hannah and Diana! Oh god, I promise I didn't mean to make a rhyme. But now I did, and it's weird. Damn it.**

 **Let's give this a try.**

 **Hannah**

Clay dropped the crumpled piece of lavender paper to the floor. It hit his bedroom carpet without a sound, even though it carried the weight of the world.

He picked it up and frantically examined it for a name, double checking inside his backpack to see if there were any other papers that had been slipped in.

"Where did this-? She had a-?" Clay breathed heavily, murmuring to himself.

He thought back to the 13 tapes that Hannah Baker had left behind. He thought about Mr. Porter, holding on to those precious, horrible tapes, and what he might decide to do with them.

Those tapes are the only evidence of what Hannah Baker was thinking. Until now.

A knock on the door—Clay's mom. "Clay, honey? How mad will you be if we have lasagna again tonight? I'm busy with the case and don't have time to cook." Her tone was joking, light as usual, until she saw his face.

"So mad, Mom…" Clay halfheartedly joked, still staring at the paper on the ground.

"What's wrong?" She ventured, taking a small step into the room.

"I just um, found a…note…in my backpack…from, a girl. But I don't know who put it there or why."


	2. Chapter 2

It was Monday and Clay couldn't pedal fast enough to school. He would've called Tony to talk, but he needed to have this conversation in person.

Clay arrived at Liberty High well before first period. He hastily threw down his bike and backpack to send Tony a text: "can u ditch first? It's important"

Tony responded almost instantly: "should I be worried?"

Clay: "I don't know. It's about Hannah"

The bell rang and first period began, but Clay and Tony weren't in their seats. They were already far away—cruising at top speed in the red Mustang. Tony turned on some music—"The Night We Met", Clay and Hannah's song from the dance, happened to be in the cassette player. Somewhat appropriate for the mysterious occasion.

"So what was so important that you needed me to ditch communications? Mrs. Bradley's already been on my case for missing assignments. But I can't help it…things are, a bit rough at home." Tony cleared his throat.

"Everything okay?" Clay was interested, but lost in his own worries.

"My brothers they…we're in a bit of…there was a…Well I, well what did you have to tell me Clay?"

Distracted, Clay paid little attention to Tony's distress and launched into his news about the diary. He took a deep breath.

"Hannah Baker had a diary. I know this because someone put the first page of it in my backpack."

Tony was stunned, and nearly veered off the road.

"Did you know about it Tony? Did you know she was writing things down? I mean, we all know about the tapes, sure, but did you know she had…other secrets? Things she didn't share with the 13 of us?"

"I didn't know. What did it say?"

"It was…well it was very Hannah. Funny, weird…and sad, actually. She mentioned something about girls. About problems at her old school."

"What do you think it means?" Tony asked, with wide eyes.

"I think Hannah had more problems than we know about. I think no one knows exactly what she went through or what she was thinking before she killed herself. I think if there are…more pages of this diary, then maybe we can understand why. I think there's more beneath the surface." Clay rattled these thoughts off one by one.

"How do you know it's real?" Tony asked.

Clay thought about the question. "I guess I don't. But I have an idea…Tony, drive to the Bakers' drug store."

"You got it." And they were off.

/

Mr. Baker was the only one working at the pharmacy that day. He looked tired and aged, more so than usual. It was clear that the trial was taking a toll on him. But nevertheless, he was kind as ever.

"Shouldn't you boys be in school?" he teased. Clay and Tony forced a weak laugh.

"Actually Mr. Baker, I need something, for a communications assignment. WE need something. Which is why we're here. We need, journals—diaries. We're supposed to keep, diaries about our feelings about the, um, well obviously everyone's going through a rough time." Clay rambled.

Mr. Baker offered a half smile, he knew exactly how tough times were. The suicide of his teenage daughter had left a dark cloud hanging above most.

"I'm sorry but we don't. We used to have a couple diaries in stock, but then we had to downsize on most of our "extra" inventory, we mostly only carry the essentials now. But, Walplex might carry them, if that's helpful." His grin faded when mentioning the rival drugstore that was running them out of business.

Clay was persistent, "Do you remember what they looked like? The diaries?"

Mr. Baker thought it over. "Well, sure. We had a few different types, mostly meant for kids. We had some blue ones with baseballs for the boys, and I think a couple of different kinds for girls…maybe purple or pink, I think one of them said something silly about "girl power," something like that. So, probably not what you fellas were looking for anyway."

Clay, stoically: "Thanks Mr. Baker. That's exactly what we were looking for."

/

Tony was speeding back to Liberty High. "Think we can make it back before third? I'm in trouble with Mr. Donelson."

"Tony who aren't you in trouble with?"

Tony, changing the subject: "So what about this diary? What do we do now?"

"Well first of all, we know the diary page really came from Hannah. Mr. Baker described the exact diaries that Hannah wrote about. Her diary came from their store." Clay explained, "Let me look at it again."

Clay started digging through his backpack. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

Clay slowly pulled out a piece of paper and stared at it for a minute without speaking.

"This…isn't the page from before. This is…new. Someone…put this in my backpack." Clay could barely find the words to articulate his shock.

"What? What are you talking about? Your backpack has been on your back since you left your house this morning, right?" Tony asked.

Clay thought back to the morning. Yes, he had never taken it off. He put it on in his bedroom, rode his bike to school and…Oh. The text, the text to Tony. Clay had tossed his backpack on the ground, he was in a rush. But it was so fast…who could have…?

Clay became pale. "Tony, someone is passing me notes from Hannah's diary. I don't know who is doing this or why they're doing it. And I'm scared."

Tony pulled into a parking spot. He turned off the engine.

"Scared of whoever's doing it? Or scared to find out the other reasons why Hannah did it?"

/

 **September 9, 2015**

 **Dear Diana,**

 **Didn't think you'd see me again, did you? You probably thought I'd forget about you, banish you to the graveyard under my bed…where the only dusty friends you'd have would be my old sneakers and the Twilight books. Not a good fate.**

 **Well don't worry, I haven't forgotten you yet. I'm actually a pretty good friend, despite what they used to say about me at Glendale. They said a lot of things. But what do they know? They're just bored suburban teenagers like me. Then again, what do you know? You're an inanimate object.**

 **Yes, I'm still writing. I'm surprised, but I find that when I write things down, it assures me that they really happened.**

 **This new school is very overwhelming. I feel like an alien who's missing the gene of socialization. I feel like everyone's staring at me, even if they aren't. Yesterday I sat next to a girl on the bus. I didn't even ask her name, I just kept saying "me too" with a weird fake smile on my face to everything she said. When we went to class, I hadn't gotten her number. I couldn't even look her up online. Maybe I'll see her again in the hallways, maybe I'll reach out. Maybe I'll get a chance to redo my first impression—make her think I'm the very cool Hannah Baker with tons of knowledge and talent and awesomeness. Maybe.**

 **How did I get this way? Why am I so awkward? I think my worst fear goes back to what Claire Roycemore said about me freshman year: "Hannah Baker is secret boring. She's pretty, seems nice, seems cool, but there's really nothing there." Claire was my friend, but apparently I wasn't entertaining enough to keep her around.**

 **And so it's easy for me to pass through the halls like a ghost person. Sure, I talk, I laugh, I smile, I go through the motions necessary to get through the average day of high school. But sometimes I feel like my body and my mind are living two different existences. Weird, right?**

 **I feel bad. I don't want you to ONLY be a place for me to dump my bad news. So here's something good that happened today: a cute boy named Justin smiled at me for no reason. I know, no big deal, but sometimes the little things make dark hallways a little brighter.**

 **Thanks for listening.**

 **Hannah**


End file.
